So which is it?

Sixty years ago, in Metropolis, Illinois, Steve called it "Pink Eye." All these years later it's the same condition, now called conjunctivitis.  And I have it.  I woke up this morning thinking I had a scratch on the cornea and was quite freaked.  Fortunately, I already had a doctor's appointment set up this afternoon so had her look at the damage.  She diagnosed and prescribed right away and now I am in treatment for.... "pink eye"..... so to speak.

We were at the doctors' offices for about five hours.  Steve brought the nurses a treat - he said their eyes lit up like it was Christmas, so poignant. Don't they understand how wonderful they are?  Especially the ones who took care of me for 34 days?  The doctor asked me if I was just chomping to get home, but the truth was, I wanted to be there, I needed their help. I was in pain, quite frightened, and unable to do a lot for myself.

This morning I told the doctor that I've been waking in the night, crying,  How do you tell the difference between wasting and loss of appetite from medication and other influences?  She didn't know.  As little as I can force-feed myself I wonder if I'm wasting from cancer, an horrific thought.

I want to stay alive, I just don't want to eat. It gets complicated.